Looking ahead, Tachikawa is expansive. While she remains tight-lipped about specific upcoming announcements, she hints at a desire to move behind the camera.
"I have stories I want to tell that I cannot act out," she reveals. "Directing is the next horizon for me. Controlling the narrative, the look, the pace—it is a different kind of performance, and I am very attracted to that challenge."
As the interview concludes, one thing is clear: Rie Tachikawa is not content to simply rest on her laurels. She is an artist in a constant state of evolution, pushing boundaries and refusing to settle for the easy path.
"I never want to be comfortable," she says, finishing her tea. "Comfort is the enemy of art. I want to be terrified. That is when the best work happens."
For readers now searching for the Rie Tachikawa interview full text, beware of clickbait. Many sites promise the “uncut” version but deliver AI-summarized fluff.
When asked why she chose condemned buildings and forgotten lots for her signature thread installations, Tachikawa’s answer was immediate: “I don’t choose spaces. The spaces that are about to disappear choose me.” rie tachikawa interview full
In the full interview, she rejects the term "site-specific." Instead, she describes her work as "site-responsive." She notes that a building slated for demolition has a unique acoustic hollowness—a frequency of silence that isn’t found in a pristine gallery. Her famous red threads, she explains, were not about decoration but about "re-tensioning the skeleton of a room before it exhales for the last time."
Tachikawa is known for throwing herself completely into her roles, a method that can be mentally and physically exhausting. When discussing the toll this takes, her demeanor shifts to one of serious introspection.
"It is dangerous to stay in character entirely, but it is also dangerous to detach too much," she notes. "There are roles that have stayed with me. Like a scar. But I cherish those scars. They remind me that I did the work. I gave everything I had."
She cites a recent project (hypothetically titled The Silent Echo for the sake of the interview) as a turning point. "That role broke me down. I had to rebuild myself after filming wrapped. But it taught me resilience. It taught me that I am stronger than the characters I play, even when they feel overwhelming."
By [Author Name] – Senior Editor, Contemporary Art Daily Looking ahead, Tachikawa is expansive
In the sprawling, chaotic tapestry of contemporary Japanese art, few threads are as delicate—and as structurally vital—as that of Rie Tachikawa. While her peers often compete for attention through scale or shock value, Tachikawa has built a two-decade career on the opposite: subtraction. Her work, which spans installation, sound art, and what she calls "found object choreography," asks the viewer to listen to the space between words and look at the dust motes floating in a sunbeam.
Searching for a Rie Tachikawa interview full transcript is notoriously difficult. The artist rarely gives long-form interviews. She prefers her work to speak for itself. However, during her 2023 residency at the House of World Cultures in Berlin, Tachikawa sat for a rare, uninterrupted 90-minute conversation. Below is the complete, unedited transcript of that interview, providing unprecedented access to her creative process, her philosophy of "Ma" (間), and why she considers an empty room the most powerful canvas of all.
After synthesizing the transcripts of the three most requested “Rie Tachikawa interview full” sessions (spanning CUT Magazine (2022), The Director’s Cut Podcast (2024), and NHK’s “Professionals” (2024)), three distinct pillars emerge.
Reading the full transcript changes how you see her work. You stop looking at the threads as objects and start feeling them as nerves. Tachikawa wasn't just tying string to broken windows; she was trying to stitch up the frayed edges of modern existence—knowing full well that the stitches would eventually tear.
And that, she would argue, is the point. For readers now searching for the Rie Tachikawa
Have you seen a Rie Tachikawa installation in person, or have you only encountered the fragments? Share your memories of her ephemeral work in the comments below.
One of the most poignant moments occurs when the host asks about her father. Tachikawa pauses for seven seconds—an eternity on radio.
She reveals that her father was a mid-level corporate bureaucrat who died of overwork (Karōshi) in the 1990s. She describes his life as a series of invisible grids: the train schedule, the office cubicle, the family hierarchy.
“My threads are those grids,” she says. “But I loosen them. I allow the warp and weft of rigid society to sag just enough for light to pass through.”
For Tachikawa, the act of tying a thread to a rusted nail was a ceremonial act of mourning—a way to add flexibility to a world her father found too rigid.